


Don't you trust me?

by bronweathanharthad



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: F/M, Postpartum Depression, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronweathanharthad/pseuds/bronweathanharthad
Summary: Motherhood has proven a difficult adjustment for Alma, and she does a poor job concealing her many anxieties over her newborn son's safety.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: "don't look at me like that"





	Don't you trust me?

_Took her sailing on the river_

_Flow, sweet river, flow_

_London town was mine to give her_

_Sweet Thames flow softly_

_Made the Thames into a crown_

_Flow, sweet river, flow_

_Made a brooch of Silvertown_

_Sweet Thames flow softly_

But still he cried, her singing and rocking doing nothing to soothe him. While his eyes – his father’s eyes – remained mostly dry, he looked angry over her many failed efforts to make him happy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she sighed. “I’m trying to help you.”

Daniel knocked softly on the door. “Do you need anything?”

“Can you heat up some more formula? I couldn’t get him to feed.”

Continuing to rock him, she said, “Why are you so fussy tonight?” She had checked his diaper and put him in a new outfit in case he was too hot. His body temperature felt normal. He was breathing okay, and as far as she could tell he didn’t seem to be in pain. What was she missing?

Maybe he wanted a change of scenery. But as she turned to the window she saw a towel on the floor by the foot of the crib. She could trip over it and crack Jonathan’s head open. She couldn’t hold him with one arm and move the towel with the other in case she dropped him. And she didn’t want to put him back in his crib while he was still this fussy.

Relief came with another gentle knock. “It should be warm enough.”

“Oh, thank you. Do you want to try feeding him? You might have better luck than I did.”

If there was anyone she could trust to hold her son, it was Daniel. But still she found her hand continuing to support the back of Jonathan’s head even when Daniel had a steady grip. “It’s all right,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

How could he hold him so carelessly? How could he hold their son one-armed and feed him and talk to him and walk around the nursery when there were trip hazards every which way? He could have easily dropped the baby or fallen on top of him or made him choke on the milk, but he just fed and carried him like it was nothing.

Jonathan started fussing after drinking most of the bottle. “Good job,” said Daniel as he pulled back the bottle, his voice as soft as it always was when speaking to their son. “Let’s see if you want the rest. No? That’s okay.” He patted his back gently until he burped. “There’s a good boy.”

As he bent down to pick up the towel, the image of their son slipping from his grip seized her mind. “Be careful please.” The words left her mouth before she could stop herself from saying them.

He looked at her with confusion and a little hurt in his eyes, and his body tensed up at her words, but he decided not to retort. He placed Jonathan back in his crib and gave him a kiss. She winced and let out an involuntary gasp as his arms accidentally brushed against the top of the crib, but her pulse settled after he checked to make sure that the bars were securely in place.

“Thank you,” she said.

He finally turned to face her again. The confusion in his eyes remained. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t trust me with our son.”

She let out a tired sigh. It was more directed at herself than at him. “I’m sorry. I trust you; I promise I do. It’s just … I don’t know.”

He no longer looked confused, but she would take gladly confusion and even hurt over his current expression. It was that helpless, pitying, “oh honey” look that he gave her when she first told him about the dreams she had of losing their baby, and it was completely insufferable. “Alma, I don’t want you to worry. If you want me to do something differently…”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. I guess I need more time to adjust or … or something. God, please don’t look at me like that.” Her eyes started to sting with unshed tears. She always cried more easily when she was tired, and these past two weeks had given her almost no sleep, but she would be damned if she let those tears fall now.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He took her into his arms, holding her gently at enough of a distance that she could easily break their embrace if she wished. “I’m sorry,” he said again as he rubbed her back. “I wish I could help you more.”

She returned his embrace and rested her head on the crook of his neck. “He’s just a baby.”

“But he’s our baby. And it’s our job to take care of him – not your job, our job. He is safe, and I will protect him with my very life.” He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “You can trust me. I promise you can.”

She let him hold her, wishing that she could take his words to heart. He had wanted to be a parent every bit as much as she did. He nearly wept for joy when she told him she was pregnant, and he openly wept for joy at their son’s birth. And yet…

Crying put an end to their embrace. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Go and get some sleep. I’ll get you if I need you.”

She waited just outside the door until Jonathan stopped crying. Not even his quiet was enough to assure her, but she knew Daniel wouldn’t want her to check on them. So she forced herself to bed and pretended to be asleep. She only felt settled once she heard her husband’s footsteps.


End file.
